Firelight (Darkest London 1)

Her ripe mouth puckered but she nodded in acceptance. “And the rest of them? Was it simple jealousy that caused them to dislike Archer? Or the incident with Marvel?”

He felt a small jolt. “You know of that?”

“Only that Archer and Marvel quarreled over her.”

Leland snorted. “Archer was trying to save Marvel. Victoria had come back and seduced Marvel. She urged Marvel to make the change. Archer was incensed. He knew firsthand what would happen to the youth.” Leland took another sip of his drink. “Marvel was just another pawn. I believe Victoria thought if she roused Archer’s passion, got him jealous, that he would realize the depth of his love for her and return. Instead, Archer got his first true taste of the monster he would become when he beat Marvel within an inch of his life. He agreed then to the members’ ridiculous banishment to keep them, and others, safe.”

“Ever the protector,” she murmured, her brow furrowing. The frown increased. “I still do not understand why Victoria has waited all these years to return. Why did she not go after Archer from the first?”

“The woman is well over three hundred years old. What is sixty years to an immortal? The equivalent of a few months, perhaps?” He shrugged, enjoying the feeling of such a crude gesture. “I believe she truly thought he would return to her, that Archer was merely in a mood. Unfortunately for all of us, he proved he was very much over her wiles.”

“By marrying me.”

“No, my dear,” he said softly. “By falling in love with you.”

She took an unsteady breath. “Hell hath no fury…”

“Indeed.”

Lady Archer rose from her chair in one fluid movement. “So he had to change to stop her.”

“You cannot begin to understand the power she has.”

“Believe me, Lord Leland, I can.” Her h*ps swayed as she paced. “If Archer possesses even one-tenth of her strength, I can imagine.” Her bitter laugh cut off abruptly, and she rounded on him. “You said he would lose his soul…” She paled, beginning to see the inevitable conclusion.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “When he changes, he shall crave the light of other souls the way you and I crave air. The very first life he takes shall damn him for eternity. And with each life thereafter, a bit of his humanity will go.”

She swayed and grabbed hold of the mantel.

“That is why he fought this curse with everything he had,” he said. “The kiss is an act of consent. Without it, the elixir must work on its own, slowly. For a short time, Archer thought he’d found a cure. There was a ring.”

Her green eyes sharpened. “A ring?”

“The ring hid a note from his old valet, Daoud. Victoria killed him long ago, but not before he sent a message containing the true nature of the demon curse to Archer.”

“And he found the ring?” The hopefulness in her voice crushed him.

“Yes. Just recently. There wasn’t a cure, my dear. Only a way to end it.” He forced himself up and crossed the room to his desk, all the while aware of her trembling lips and shimmering eyes.

“This is the Sword of Light.” He lifted the ancient weapon out of his drawer. “The only thing that can pierce a light demon’s flesh. Archer must thrust this sword into Victoria’s heart and destroy her.”

“And then?” It was the barest whisper.

Leland’s strength wavered. “Then he must turn it upon himself.”

He watched her fall apart, press her hand to her middle, curl into herself, yet remain standing. Agony slashed at her features. But she did not cry. She took a deep breath but her resolve failed. A keening wail slipped through her lips. He went to her only to have her lift her hand and warn him off. She got hold of herself and straightened.

“Why—why do you have the sword?”

“We must not risk her finding it until Archer’s change is done. I am to take it tonight. Leave it outside the cavern where they have gone.”

She paced again, holding her middle as though holding on to her sanity.

“All is not lost,” he said desperately. “Archer need not lose his soul…”

“Only his life! Forgive me for being selfish but it is a small consolation to me.” She whipped round before stalking back to the fire. “How?”

“Should he be destroyed before he takes a life, his soul will remain intact.”

“And just how is he to avoid that?” she snapped. “When he must first destroy Victoria?”

Leland blanched. “I…”

She snorted. “You did not consider it, did you? Neither of you did.”

His hand shook as it ran through his hair, sending limp strands over his brow. “The legend was quite clear; those who take up the light without thought of personal greed shall find redemption. Only a savior true of heart shall wield the Sword of Light, and out of fire that comes not from man but the gods the blade shall come alive and meet its destiny.”

Lady Archer stopped her restless pacing and stared at him. “Fire?”

“Yes. Such artifacts usually come with fanciful riddles. Most likely it is allegorical. However, the Egyptians, who crafted this sword, believed that the lake of fire, from which this sword was forged, had the power to both purify and destroy. The innocent would be redeemed by fire, and the guilty annihilated. Perhaps piercing her with the blade shall turn her to flame,” he mused.

“Thought this out, have you?” She sighed. “Forgive me. I am unsettled.”

“Quite understandable, my dear.”

She took a deep breath and then steeled her spine. “There is only one recourse.” Emerald fire lit her eyes. “I shall have to destroy Victoria. And then…” Her lips trembled violently. “And then Archer as well.”

“Out of the question!”

Lord Leland’s shout cracked through the air like a shot.

“I was not asking for your permission, sir.” Miranda’s heart felt as though it were truly in danger of failing, so great was the pain, but she looked at the elderly man with resolve. “There is little choice in the matter. Archer cannot kill her, or he will lose his soul. You cannot do it because you are too frail.”

His mouth opened in outrage, yet he could hardly deny the truth of her statement.

“Archer forfeited his life to change,” he said with heat. “Because that is the only way to defeat her. She is too strong otherwise!”

“That is where you men have failed to understand,” she said. “Should you have thought it through, you would have realized your error. Archer believed he must engage in a physical battle. He thought only of his previous battles with her. Like a man, he sought to solve this problem with brawn.”

Were Archer here, Miranda would have hit him with something very large and very hard. Damnable man. Why did you have to shut me out? Black fingers of panic crawled across her field of vision. She took another deep breath.

“And in his blind haste, he overlooked his true weapon. The sword.” She went to Leland’s desk. The sword lay upon it, a seemingly simple weapon. Nothing so dazzling as to decry it the ultimate threat against an immortal demon. Her hand closed around the bronze hilt, and a sizzle of power coursed against her palm. She nearly dropped it, then adjusted her hold. Another shot of power surged through her, and deep down, the fire inside of her seemed to answer it, flaring hot in her veins for an instant. She pulled the sword from its sheath.

“Careful,” Leland warned unnecessarily.

It was an evil-looking thing. The leaf-shaped blade was pure black, made of a metal she could not place. Light coming through the windows caught its edge with a gleam. Frightfully sharp. Her hand wavered. She would plunge this into Archer’s breast. I cannot!

Victoria. Think of her.

“He needed only to use the element of surprise,” she said.

“My dear Lady Archer, you cannot think that you shall take Victoria by surprise.” His white brows touched his hairline. “It is folly. I will not allow it, I say.”

Miranda sheathed the sword and attached it to her belt with the hook on the back of the scabbard. “As I said, Lord Leland, I have not asked for your permission. I shall do this thing.”

He moved to stop her, and her temper broke. “If anyone is to end Archer’s life, it is to be me. If I cannot have him back, I can save his soul, damn you!”

He eased away. “I understand your pain—”

“You do not! Nor do you understand my strength. You see only a helpless female. Why is it, do you think, that Archer hid this from me?”

“To spare you the pain of knowing beforehand,” he said with equanimity.

“No. He hid this from me because he knew I am well capable of facing Victoria, and if I had found out about her, I would have tried to kill her myself.”

“Then he is well-justified in his precaution. The very idea horrifies me.” Leland drew himself up. “If I must protect you from yourself, I will.”

“I do not need your protection. If anything, you need protection from me.” And with that she let the fire free.

Flame from candles and lamps in the room burst from their glass houses with an angry hiss. Leland let out a strangled sound, like that of a man choking upon his soup. “Impossible.”

Her laugh was bitter as she reached for her cloak. “You of all people should understand that all things are possible.” She slipped her arms into her cloak and headed for the door. “We leave now.”

Chapter Thirty-three

Night came quickly and with it an icy wind that cut at the skin. Leland faltered, his thin frame buffeted by the wind. Miranda pulled her horse near and handed him the small lantern she carried. The light was little more than a pinprick of yellow on a dark mantle.

“Let me…” She took his hands, feeling the cold through his fine leather riding gloves. He twitched in surprise but she held tight. Warmth. Heat coursed from her middle and into her palms. Leland gasped as the heat traveled into him. She leaned forward, taking his neck in her hand. Softly, she blew over his face. Heat. The air steamed, hot and strong, and he closed his eyes with a sigh.

When Leland revived, she let him go and set a strong pace once more.

“What is it that you do?” Leland asked after a moment.

They had not spoken since he’d explained Archer’s plans for her. Should Archer fail to kill Victoria, or himself, he would crave souls with all his being. Loving Miranda as he did, he would crave hers above all others. Leland would take her away and hide her where Archer could not find her. The high-handed way in which Archer had deceived her had Miranda seething for a good hour, but it was hardly Leland’s fault.

“I can create fire,” she said as her horse picked its way up a sharp incline. She could not help the beast. She could barely see. They were out of London now, traveling into an ancient forest of oaks and beech trees. “Control it on a whim. So long as there is something to burn.”

“What you did just now, that was not fire.”

His observation hit Miranda. He was correct. What she had done to him was new. And yet she had done it without thought. She’d simply known she could warm him.

“The principle is the same,” she said with hesitation. Was it? “I thought of heat, warmth, and thus it came.”

“Fascinating.”

The silence of the forest pressed in, cut only by the lonely jangle of their horses’ bridles as they ascended the small rise. Boundless darkness stretched out on all sides. Had she been alone, the emptiness would have unnerved her. But she was not alone.

“The others all thought him a monster.” Cold air burned her throat. “Why didn’t you shun him when he returned? You and Cheltenham?”

Leland kept his eyes on the road ahead. His pale face wavered like a phantom in the light of the lantern hanging on his pommel. “Because we knew he was simply a man, with weakness and frailties. Who yearned for the same things all of us do—to love and be loved.” He glanced at the reins in his hands, then away. “That he should find it after all these years, only to have to give it away with both hands.” He shook his head slowly. “It is a little thing to stand by him.”

They spoke no more and headed farther into the cold gloom.

By the time Leland called softly to halt, Miranda’s hands were stiff claws on the reins.

“We leave the horses here.” He turned down the light and dismounted with a stifled groan. “I cannot stress enough the danger we are in.” His eyes were glowing orbs in the starlight that eked through the ancient tree canopy. “Her senses are excellent. Hearing uncanny—”

“Then I suggest,” she cut in softly, “that we refrain from speaking any further.”

Grimacing, Leland offered a short nod and then took her elbow in hand. Half a mile they crept along, their feet sifting through brittle leaves to find the hard ground beneath so as not to make a sound. Sweat trickled down her back; her thighs burned under the slow movement.

They headed west, the forest before them no more than shapes of black and gray. Ahead, a black bulk appeared to be a steep hillside. A tiny flicker of orange light announced the opening to a cave.

Leland’s soft lips trembled against her ear. “The torches are lit. Like Archer, she will be resting. We must go to Cavern Hall. That is where he will be.”

The scent of incense hung heavy as smoke, clogging her throat. Archer was here. She could feel him. The sense of him plucked at her skin and pushed her heart to beat fiercely. She kept pace with Leland and then outdistanced him. She knew where to go. Archer pulled her along. Down the dark, winding passage toward the orange glow of firelight.